


Perchance, to Dream

by tobiyos



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Sleepovers, canon compliant as far as things go, i don't think we talked about that enough, oblivious langa, remember when Reki yelled langas name in his sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: Langa thinks it’s strange, sometimes, that he doesn’t dream. He knows that he can, it’s just not a frequent thing, and sometimes he wakes up with impressions and fleeting thoughts, but not the full experience, not a world to leave behind.Reki dreams, though. Reki dreams about skateboarding, and girls, and the end of the world probably. Reki dreams in bursts. Reki dreams about Langa.
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 12
Kudos: 274





	Perchance, to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I said it in my tags but I'll say it again! We do not talk about Reki yelling Langa's name in his sleep enough. (Also Sk8 has me by the balls enough to make me write a fic before the show is even over which I always said I'd never do. Look at me now.)
> 
> Also, set uhh sometime between episode 5 and 6

Langa spends a lot of his time at Reki’s house.

He doesn’t think it’s a particularly exorbitant amount, considering his mom has only really commented on it once or twice, and she’s something of a barometer for social interactions as far as he’s concerned. Reki is far from his first friend, but their relationship is built on a backbone of activity and mutual intrest, and Langa sometimes wonders if he should be treating Reki more like a teammate than a... whatever they are. As if that’s not another line of thinking Langa walks, and backtracks, and follows again.

But Reki invites him over and Langa goes, like he always will, crowding in front of Reki’s too small desk to watch skating videos pressed shoulder to shoulder. It’s a routine at this point, including the way Langa’s heart beats out of his chest when Reki turns to tell him something, close enough that Langa can see the way his eyes shift from brown to golden. Langa has always been used to the cold and the muted, but everything about Reki is bright and warm and shining, from the vibrant hues of his jacket of the day down to the heat of his slight shoulders against Langa’s.

They always ends up pressed cheek to cheek as videos play on Reki’s phone, until someone snaps to enough awareness to realize the sun has gone down. Reki always asks if he wants to spend the night. Langa never really thinks about saying no.

So, he lays out on Reki’s floor, and stares at the ceiling, following the quiet sounds that pour in off of the street. Reki has thick wood shutters over his window that make the moonlight look cut up against the wall in splashes of white on warm color, and Langa thinks about lifting his arm to see if they’ll touch his skin.

Usually, Langa can hear Reki’s sisters running around, or his mom bustling about, but for now, the house is quiet, subdued in nighttime in a way that doesn’t seem possible during the day. Reki’s house is quiet, but Langa’s apartment is quieter, if only because the street is too far away to let in the occasional sound of a car, the far off crowing of some stray cat. Langa never really liked the noise before, but Reki mumbles in his sleep, and now he doesn’t think he knows what to do in the absence of it.

And then Reki sneezes in his sleep, and Langa chuckles to himself quietly, fingers threading together at his chest.

“‘s not funny,” Reki mumbles and Langa starts when he sits up in his bed with a sigh. “Why are you up?”

“Why are _you_ up?” Langa returns quietly, still watching the ceiling as Reki shifts around.

“Weird dream,” he says.

Langa thinks it’s strange, sometimes, that he doesn’t dream. He knows that he _can_ , it’s just not a frequent thing, and sometimes he wakes up with impressions and fleeting thoughts, but not the full experience, not a world to leave behind.

Reki dreams, though. Sometimes Langa will sit with him on the roof while Reki naps, and they’ll spend the entire walk back to class arguing over whether Reki’s dreams can mean anything more than surface level nonsense. Reki says he’s clairvoyant. Langa thinks he’s full of shit.

Langa thinks dreams mean nothing, because if they do, then what does it mean that he doesn’t dream at all?

“What were you dreaming about?” he asks, eyes going back to the ceiling. Reki is shifting on his bed, the sheets bunching audibly as he moves. Langa stretches a hand towards the light on the wall.

“You.”

Reki dreams. Reki dreams about skateboarding, and girls, and the end of the world probably. Reki dreams in bursts. Reki dreams about Langa.

Langa has an expectation, he thinks, that Reki is going to say something else, or explain himself, because Langa is quiet where Reki is not. He should be babbling about the rest of what happened, about all the little details Langa shouldn’t care to know. Instead, Langa stares at the ceiling, and listens to Reki’s air conditioning.

“Langa?” Reki asks quietly. “Do you want to come up here?”

“Okay.”

When Langa clamors onto the bed slowly, Reki’s sheets are soft, the material slipping through his fingers like sand. His limbs are still stiff from the sudden onslaught of movement, but Langa manages, pulling himself upright with a quiet grunt or two.

Reki is sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest, red hair flat against his shoulders and slightly tousled from sleep. Langa thinks he looks small, folded in on himself, childlike with his bare feet and his loose shirt. He doesn’t look up when Langa scoots closer, only pressing his mouth into a straighter line.

“Is this like that time you yelled my name in class?” he asks.

Even in the dark, it’s easy to see the way Reki’s face turns red, his arms curling tighter around his knees. “Shut up,” he mumbles. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Langa smiles, and leans close enough he can see under the curtain of Reki’s bangs, eyes following the little upturn to Reki’s nose as it wrinkles. With his hair down, Langa understands why Reki always stays in headbands, especially as he pouts and purses his lips to puff his hair out of his face. “What did you dream about?”

“The same thing I always dream about,” Reki mumbles, shrinking in on himself. Langa puts a hand out to brush some of his hair away, and Reki flinches, glaring at Langa half-heartedly. “You’re hurt.”

“No, I’m not,” Reki says, scooting closer. He puts his hands on Reki’s knees so he can see him better, tilting his head as he glances up from under Reki’s face. “I’m fine.”

“You’re always hurt in my dreams,” Reki clarifies, looking down in his lap instead of at Langa. He’s starting to sound quiet in a way Langa has never really heard before, when he’s usually all explosive theories and undiluted excitement. “There’s never anything I can do about it.”

Langa frowns. “I told you I wouldn’t quit—”

“It’s not about you quitting!” Reki hisses. Langa drops his hand back down to Reki’s knee. “It’s not about you quitting,” he whispers, and Langa watches him swallow almost desperately. “If you get hurt— _when_ you get hurt, who’s fault do you think it’ll be? Who’ll have made the board that failed you or given you the advice that sends you headfirst down some street?” Langa blinks. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but he _knows_ what they do can get dangerous. He spent his first week skating with bruises on his bruises, and it’s not like he doesn’t still take the occasional tumble. But that happens even when Reki isn’t there. It’s not like he’s to blame.

“I dream about you getting hurt more than anything else, now,” Reki says, and Langa flinches back when he leans forward. “You’re always just laying there, afterwards. Y-you don’t move, or twitch, or… _anything_. And I can’t do anything about it because it’s already done, and when you _get hurt_ , all I can think is that I’m the one who dragged you into this.”

Langa frowns. He doesn’t understand. Reki knows it was a dream, and that Langa is here, unhurt, and not in danger anytime soon. But Reki keeps staring at his hands, or his bed, and he isn’t really looking at _Langa_ anymore, like he can’t bear to see past whatever broken, lifeless image of him is still lingering from his nightmare.

Carefully, Langa reaches out and puts his hand over Reki’s, the rough parts of his palms scratching across Reki’s hand. He doesn’t look up, even when Reki slides his fingers around his wrist, and pulls Langa’s hand to rest on his shoulder. “Here,” he mumbles, shuffling on his knees to sit down properly. He guides Reki’s hand down over the left side of his chest, until his palm is flat against what Langa knows is his heartbeat. “Can you feel me?” he asks. Reki nods. “Right now,” Langa says slowly, carefully. “I’m okay. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?” Langa asks.

“Because!” Reki huffs, and his hand curls against Langa’s shirt. “I can’t stop thinking that even if you don’t _quit,_ you’ll still _leave_ me!”

Langa blinks and loosens his hold on Reki’s wrist. “That’s the problem!” Reki whispers harshly. “The dreams aren’t about you getting hurt anymore—not after you walked away from Adam unscathed. I _know_ you won’t quit. They’re about you falling, and never getting up, and me going back to being _alone_.” His breathing is turning frantic, and Langa realizes with a start that Reki’s hand is shaking. “I can’t make you promise not to leave me, that’s not fair, but _Langa_ —” Reki’s hand curls in the fabric of Langa’s borrowed shirt. “I don’t want you to go where I can’t follow you.”

Langa blinks again. Reki is struggling to catch his breath, and Langa can feel his heart picking up its pace against his fingers when Reki glances up, and his eyes are bright, and open, and more miserable than Langa has ever seen him.

So, he panics, and leans forward.

As far as kisses go, Langa thinks this one is pretty bad. Reki is taken off guard, and Langa has never really kissed anyone before, and there are way too many teeth, and the worst alignment of their mouths, but Langa hopes it’s enough to get his point across. He is right here, and he isn’t going anywhere, and Reki can’t get rid of him even if he tries.

He pulls away almost as fast as he’d leaned in, and Reki glances up at him with big, bright eyes, dark in the light of the room. Reki’s eyes are wild in the daylight, but they’re _brighter_ when he’s skating, in a way Langa never sees unless they’re careening down streets, close enough to catch if the other one falls. His eyes look like amber in the afternoon sun, but they’re like gold in the moonlight, even turned away from the window.

“You kissed me,” Reki chokes out.

Langa nods. “I am going to kiss you again.”

He waits, Reki nods, and Langa leans in again. This time, _oh_ , this time is different. This time, Langa catches Reki’s mouth, and he does not push, or fumble awkwardly. He kisses Reki’s top lip, quiet and chaste, and then his bottom one, and when their mouths slot together Reki sighs, his hand opening back up on Langa’s chest with a shiver.

Langa kisses Reki instead of trying to get in his head, because he knows that if there is one thing he will never understand, it’s the way Reki thinks. There’s still fumbling, still a too hard bump of their noses together that makes Reki breathe out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, but Langa puts his hand over Reki’s heart and feels it beat wildly in sync with his. Reki’s hand is still shaking, but he pushes against Langa’s chest in a way that says _You’re here_ , and Langa thinks that he may not dream, but with Reki, he doesn’t really have to.

They part slowly, hesitatingly, broken by softer, smaller kisses that make Langa feel like they’re well and truly stuck together, but eventually Reki knocks their foreheads together gently, and his gaze slides up to Langa without shaking.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Langa says, and presses his hand harder against Reki’s chest. He can’t keep the smile out of his voice. “You aren’t going to get rid of me.”

“You’re so stupid,” Reki sniffs, even as he throws his arms around Langa’s shoulders. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Reki buries his face in Langa’s shoulder, and Langa holds him by the back of the neck, until their heartbeats are sprinting alongside each other again, staccato against the sputter of the air conditioner nearby.

“Stay,” Reki says against his skin, as Langa drags fingertips down his spine.

Langa holds him tight enough he hopes Reki never has to ask again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you got through this, ily thanks for coming on this fun little ride with me. Also!! come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos) I talk about joe a lot because I love him and also scream whenever there are new episodes :)


End file.
